


Oh Shit

by scamvnder



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:46:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scamvnder/pseuds/scamvnder
Summary: “Oh…shit.” and “I’m observant.” with Poindexter from Daredevil maybe?





	Oh Shit

“Oh…shit.” 

You whine, staring down at your dress shirt. What was once light blue is now dark brown, the coffee you had intended to go in your mouth now branching out into a stain you’re almost certain won’t come out, no matter how many times you wash it. Reaching for the few napkins you kept in your purse, you hope that you remembered to replace the shirt you kept in your car for emergencies after the last mishap you had (that one involved ketchup and it definitely wasn’t your fault).

Court has fried your brain, that much your certain of. 

Or rather, you’d like to believe that. Working for the FBI is intense, and that’s putting it lightly, but you’ve always kept your head. It wasn’t until you were assigned to babysit Wilson Fisk that your life seemed to begin spiraling. Still, things weren’t so bad. You just don’t want to admit to yourself the real reason you’re suddenly distracted. 

Dex is a hard man to define, so it comes as no surprise that you’re struggling to understand how you feel about him. His life is kind of a shit-show. After the attack on Fisk, and the subsequent casualties, Dex hasn’t been having the greatest time and it shows, despite being reinstated by Hattley. No one else seems to know any better, but you’d like to think you know Dex pretty well. There’s something going on, you just have to figure out how to ask. 

Deciding that napkins aren’t doing the trick, you cross your fingers and hope that you had the foresight to help your future self. 

Dex watches this happen with a level of amusement he doesn’t have the language to identify; affection, maybe? He doesn’t want to think so. He hurts people, often. You’re sweet, and kind, and everything he isn’t. Dex has no idea how to handle you other than not handling you at all. 

You return in a slightly wrinkled white blouse that still manages to look good on you despite it obviously laying crumbled in the trunk of your car for the past three days. 

“Accident?” 

Dex’s voice is something akin to teasing, and you would have noticed the slight lack to it if you weren’t so distracted by evening out the lines in your shirt. You look at him and laugh and he mirrors it before he can really control himself, and it makes him wonder if his reaction was genuine for not for the first time in awhile. 

“You noticed?” 

“I’m observant.” There’s a cockiness to his tone that is natural, but it isn’t arrogant, and it makes you smile and shake your head sheepishly. 

“Uh, yeah. I seem to have a talent for spilling things on myself.” You reply, glancing down at where your stain had been on your previous shirt. 

This is the longest conversation you’ve had with him without it turning to work. That’s mostly your fault, but you suspect Dex isn’t a big talker anyway. It’s pleasant, and surprising and you hope that this doesn’t end up also being the only time you two really talk. 

“Let me buy you another one, make sure you don’t have anymore spills.” 

Your dinner plate eyes must have been noticeable because Dex looks like he’s about to back-track, a sudden distracted emptiness in his expression that wasn’t there before. 

“That would be nice, Dex. Thank you.” He visibly relaxes, the tension that had built in his shoulders loosening. For a long time, you have been all he can think about. You’re his North Star, even if you don’t know it. 

“Great. It’s a date.”


End file.
